A Lesson Learned

For my grandmother.

The hard wood floors that would always creak
Even with my light frame of a body
And the concentration that I placed on every step
No matter how carefully I would tread
There was always an audible declaration
Of my late night travels to the bathroom
That was my grandfather’s house
My childhood home as a result of working parents

The ominous volume sat on one of the few coffee tables
Its hard cover protecting the knowledge it concealed
Several times I cracked the red shield with purpose
Hoping to drink in the information
In an attempt to consume the enlightenment within
The principal advocate to this was my grandmother
When I sought council for a certain word
I was directed to that same thick book
The advice I received? Sound it out
This strengthened me �" no easy way out
And I’m thankful for it every day

It’s ten years later
My sister being where I was before
The generation �" I care not its suffix
More dependent on the technology at hand
Refusing to use the great tool of days passed
”But the computers will catch it,” she reasons
I sigh, knowing there is nothing I can do
I’ll always be known as the sibling with dual dreaded diseases:
The will to learn and the love of reading

My grand mother is wasting away
And this is what consumes me
But if she taught me anything
It was to have a sort of self respect

Dedicated to: Gladys Marie Murray